


This Novel Is Not to Be Tossed Lightly Aside (but to be hurled with great force)

by preussisch_blau



Series: Prompt Me: The Writening [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: An Abundance of Headcanons, Book Abuse, But It's Not the Focus of the Work, Gen, Harrison Wells Is a Massive Nerd, Humour, Minor shipping, but we knew that already
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-24 20:55:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6166606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preussisch_blau/pseuds/preussisch_blau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr Prompt: Harry keeps discovering that all of his favorite novels (yes, he reads novels) have different (and horrible) endings here on Earth-Whatever.</p><p>Actual Summary: Harry keeps discovering that every novel he's ever read (yes, he reads novels) is different (and horrible) here on Earth-Whatever. Well, except two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Novel Is Not to Be Tossed Lightly Aside (but to be hurled with great force)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elrhiarhodan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/gifts).



> Originally started in the 5+1 format, somehow turned into 4+1+1. Whoops. (I couldn't make _every_ book horrible. I just couldn't do that to poor Harry. Also, do you know how hard it is to come up with hypothetically _better_ endings to books? It's really hard. Thus the being deliberately vague in several cases. And blatantly stealing from adaptations in others. And two cases of, "Well, _I_ don't think it's better, but Harry probably would.")
> 
> beta-read by the lovely dancesontrains
> 
> ETA: Spoilers for the novel version of _Jurassic Park_ , as my good friend jujubiest just yelled at me because she hasn't read it yet. Whoops.

Harrison sighs as he looks at the computer. He's trying to figure out the latest iteration of Velocity, trying to figure out what in his prior attempts had failed. It isn't looking very promising. By which he means that he has no damn clue where to go from here. He rubs his face, clicks the right buttons to run the compounds of prior versions of Velocity versus the information he has about Barry's speed and metabolism, hoping that with the detailed data he now has access to about how speedsters actually work, he can pinpoint the mistakes.

The computer runs its comparisons. Harrison rolls his chair back from the computer station, wondering if there's something else he can work on in the meantime. His gaze darts about the room as he considers what to do with his time. Something stands out, odd and misplaced in his stolen workroom. He gets up and goes over to the shelf, picks up a paperback with a black cover, corners rounded and spine curved and pages worn soft from being read countless times.

A couple hours later, Harrison is engrossed in the book, though he glances up when Ramon walks in, before returning his attention to the story. Ramon grabs some of his tools off the table next to Harrison... and then actually looks at him.

"Dude, does the concept of personal property exist on Earth-Two?"

"It does," he replies mildly, turning the page with a frown.

"Then why are you reading my book?" Ramon asks.

Harrison continues reading, not even glancing up as he responds. "Because I needed something to do while waiting for my program to finish running, and this is one of my favourite books back home."

"...oh." 

He assumes that will satisfy Ramon, and so returns his full attention to the novel, scowl deepening as he turns the page. This is not how the story goes, not at all, and he has read _Jurassic Park_ enough times to know. He could quote entire passages of it. He turns to the next page. Skims the words before him. Flip. Skim. Flip. Flip. Flipflipflipflipflipflip.

He snaps the book shut and slams it onto the workstation beside him with a growl. A motion flickers in the corner of his eye. Harrison spins around to see Ramon still standing there, a familiar nervous expression on his face.

"Is... Everything okay?" Ramon asks slowly.

"Your book is wrong."

"Excuse me?" he replies, mildly affronted, "Did you just say that one of the best novels of all time is _wrong?_ "

"Yes, I did," Harrison retorts acidly. "Malcolm doesn't die. Neither does Hammond. And that is just the beginning of everything that is terrible about the end of that book."

He expects Ramon to argue with him further, because that's kind of what they do. Argue about things. They really have no common ground aside from a shared sense of technological innovation, and Ramon has shown no interest in getting to know him as a person distinct from his false doppelgänger. Which is why it shocks the Hell out of Harrison when Ramon gives him a considering look, then says, "Oh man, I bet you'll _love_ the movie."

"...There's a movie?"

* * *

In a shocking gesture of goodwill after their impromptu bonding over _Jurassic Park_ \- and Ramon was right, he did love the movie - and Harrison's subsequent brush with acute lead poisoning, Ramon offered the use of his library card, said he'd pick up some books for Harry to read whilst he healed, since Caitlin certainly wasn't going to let him do anything more strenuous than lay in bed for a few days. Ramon had given him a weird look when he got the name of the book from Harrison, but he'd glared very thoroughly at the younger man until he left to go get the requested novel, muttering under his breath about "really? that one?" and "who looks that pissed over a book?"

He's settled in with the novel and an apple - also brought by a grudging Ramon -, book resting in his lap so he can read and eat at the same time, when Snow comes in to check on him. Harrison looks up for a second, then returns to his reading as she goes about checking the monitors attached to him. She's less than discreet about peering over his shoulder, but he prefers that to being asked what he's reading.

" _Good Omens_?" she asks, sounding slightly confused.

"Mhmm," he replies. His mouth is full, so it's not like he can talk without spraying apple mush all over the pages. And he has more respect for books than that. Once he swallows, Harrison explains. "The last time I read this was prior to the opening of S.T.A.R. Labs on my earth. My…wife…sat me down and put this book in my hands. Said I was not allowed to say a _word_ about S.T.A.R. until I finished reading. Apparently I was slightly stressed."

He turns the page, still reading as he speaks, unwilling to share that much about himself whilst actually looking her in the eye. It's an uncomfortable thing for him, letting these people in, even in a small way.

Snow nods, a motion he only catches in his periphery because he isn't absorbed in reading anymore. He takes another bite of his apple and sets back into reading as she adjusts the settings on one of the machines he's hooked to. He loses track of time, slowly eating and swiftly reading, devouring book and apple at an appropriate pace for each.

Snow's voice cuts into his thoughts. "So, how is it?"

"Hm?" Harrison glances up.

"The book. How is it? I've never read it before." Snow offers a smile.

"Thus far, it's about the same as on my earth. I can't say if you should read it, though, but I'll let you know when I finish?" he offers in return, eyebrow quirked.

Snow tilts her head, considering that. "Why can't you say now? I mean, if it's good so far, and the same as the one you remember, then it's probably not going to change suddenly at the end?"

"I thought the same about _Jurassic Park_ ," he remarks, "and I was wrong. I am not making the same mistake twice."

She laughs quietly. "I think you're being a _little_ dramatic, Harry."

He glares reproachfully at her for that remark, before waving his apple core pointedly in her direction. Which only earns him a bemused eyebrow raise, and don't tell him they don't have _that_ saying on this earth. Harrison grumbles, before clarifying somewhat. "You do know what they say about apples and doctors, yes?"

"No, I don't," she says with a grin, and for the life of him he can't tell if she's being serious or having him on. "Care to tell me?"

"An apple a day keeps the doctor away. I've had an apple. So shoo."

Snow turns away, chuckling once more. "Okay, fine. But I'll be back in a few hours to check your vitals again and change that IV out. Press that call button if you need anything before then."

Harrison nods absently, turning his full attention back to the book and barely noticing her slip out the door. He makes short work of the remainder of the apple, resolutely not thinking about how Jesse always thought it was a bit weird and gross that he ate the cores.

It is only an hour later when he finishes the book, and… oh is he pissed. Harrison sets it aside for a moment, glaring at it, wanting it out of his presence _yesterday._ Never mind it was only brought to him this morning, the point stands. He's so thoroughly disgusted by that ending he wishes that he'd never seen it. Barring that, however - since he's not about to ask Barry to go disrupting the timeline _just_ to spare him from one of the greatest disappointments of this earth since _Jurassic Park_ \- he will settle for getting rid of it _now,_ which means he should press the call button Snow had set up for him.

Instead he disconnects himself from his IV and monitors, swings his legs over the edge of the bed, and makes sure he can stand. Once he's certain of his balance, Harrison grabs the book and storms out of the infirmary towards the Cortex, nearly knocking Snow over as he enters the room.

"You're not supposed to be out of bed yet!" she yells, spinning around to follow him.

Harrison ignores her in favour of continuing his path, stopping in front of a somewhat nervous looking Ramon, slamming the book down on the desk between them with a dull thud. "Get this… this… crime against literature _out of my sight,_ " he growls.

"Uh," Ramon mutters dumbly around his lollipop, looking up at Harrison's stony expression and down at the book, "…Sure. You want something else to read?"

" _The Time Machine_ ," he replies tersely. Surely, _surely,_ this earth cannot mess up a _classic._

Ramon gives him a weird, almost inscrutable look, just as a hand clamps down around his arm. Harrison spares a glance at Snow, who appears halfway between being wryly amused and very annoyed with him. Why on ea- Ah. He sighs.

"Yes, yes, very funny, whatever comment or joke either of you could possibly make about that is one I have probably heard too many times before," he snarks. Because he really has heard enough jokes about the whole H. Wells/H. G. Wells thing to last him at least three lifetimes, especially when he'd been researching temporal mechanics. (And getting married had only made it worse, never mind his new initial was a C and not a G.) Harrison tugs his arm free from Snow's grasp, turns and heads back towards the infirmary.

"Hey, Harry, question for ya," Ramon says.

He pauses in the doorway, looks back over his shoulder at the two of them. "What?"

"What caused _that_ reaction? You look more pissed than you did after _Jurassic Park_." Ramon sticks his lollipop back in his mouth once he finishes speaking.

"The _ending,_ " Harrison says despairingly. "All that build up, all that foreshadowing… and there wasn't an apocalypse! What on earth were they _thinking_ with _that_ plot twist? Do me a favour and find a copy of the movie so I can purge this from my mind, since your world at least gets the movies right."

Ramon glances nervously at Snow, and Harrison can't figure out why, until he speaks. "We… don't have a movie version. There've been talks? But nothing has ever come of it."

That makes Harrison groan. "Wonderful. Of course."

"I don't think they'd change that much from the source material anyways?"

"Probably not," Harrison agrees with a sigh, "But if they kept the casting choices the same, at least I'd have something pleasant to look at. The man they cast for Crowley was really something."

With that, he leaves the room. About ten seconds later, he just catches two voices, overlapping each other.

"He likes men?!" That would be Ramon, hissing in a way that indicates he is trying to be quiet.

"I am lowering his dose of morphine." Obviously Snow.

Which is quite ridiculous, because he isn't in pain and otherwise feels very clear-headed. Now, hydrocodone? That makes him loopy, and would incline him to admit some rather embarrassing things, like the fact that the actor cast for Crowley on his earth bears a rather striking resemblance to a certain Barry Allen.

* * *

Apparently, Earth-2 is _more_ than capable of screwing up a classic.

He should have known. He _should have known._ Harrison weakly sets the book aside, and hides his face in his hands as he resists the urge to throw something. He's not entirely sure what he just read, but it was not much like _The Time Machine_ he knew and loved back in college, except in name and a few basic details.

He's not sure how long he sits like that, despairing for the state of literature on this earth, when he's interrupted by a gust of wind, the noise of papers scattering into the air and fluttering to the ground. "Hi Barry," he mutters around his palms.

"Uh, hi. Isn't this the part where you yell at me for knocking all the papers off your desk?"

Harrison straightens up with a sigh, barely glancing at the mess on the floor. "Ordinarily, yes. Would you like me to, just for consistency's sake?"

Barry winces, chuckles. "Nah, I think I'll pass. What's up? You look like someone cancelled Christmas."

That earns Barry a raised eyebrow, a faintly amused smirk. Harrison tilts his head over towards the book on the table next to him. "It seems our earths have wildly different takes on the same novels. Which is surprising, given that when movies overlap, they seem to be essentially the same."

"Lemme guess," Barry says, walking over to pick up the book at a normal human pace, "Our books are worse?"

"That's putting it mildly," he mutters, rolling his chair back so Barry isn't invading his personal space quite as much.

"… _The Time Machine_?" Barry glances at Harrison over the edge of the novel, looking far too amused. "C'mon, you might as well wear a sign around your neck saying, 'Make bad jokes about my name/time travel'."

That's… actually a new one, and Harrison barks out a short laugh. He leans back in his chair, props his ankle on his knee, and shakes his head. "It's a good story, though. Well. On my earth. Here, not so much."

"What's different about it? Wait, hold on, lemme read this first." Barry thumbs through the pages like he's looking at a flip-book, only _faster,_ and the noise absolutely grates on Harrison's ears.

He grits his teeth and bears it, though, because in a few short seconds it's done and over with. "Right, so you now understand the plot of this version, I assume?"

"Yep!"

"Good. Give me that." He plucks the book from Barry's hands, just in case he gets the urge to go looking through it at super speed again. "On Earth-One, the story goes…"

What follows is an incredibly lengthy explanation of how the Morlocks capture the time traveller and his Eloi companion, and imprison them. Apparently the traveller escapes and returns to his time machine, only to end up accidentally travelling further into the future, where there are no humanoids left, only strange kangaroo like creatures with features reminiscent of their potential human ancestors. At this point he travels back to his original time, to prove that his invention works by producing proofs in the form of plants from the time of the Eloi and Morlocks, and the corpse of one of those kangaroo creatures. He then deliberately travels even further into the future, by millions of years, only to materialise into the middle of a red giant sun and die, leaving his friends and family in the past to wonder about his fate. Well, until they fall victim to a mysterious illness, caused by the future bacteria brought back by the time traveller, that spreads into a pandemic which is hinted at being the origin of the Eloi and the Morlocks.

"And that's _better?!_ " Barry cries out.

"Well, the science is more accurate, at least," Harrison allows.

* * *

Barry zips into S.T.A.R. Labs after a really slow morning patrolling the city. Well, slow in the sense that the most excitement he got was rescuing a cat from the top of an electric pole, because according to Cisco he was definitely running at his usual pace, which was anything _but_ slow.

Something goes flying past his head and he bolts over to catch it before it hits the ground. A book. He flips it over to read the front cover. _The Hunt for Red October._ Barry doesn't need to be a genius to guess where this came from. He chuckles, turns around, and almost runs straight into a panicked looking Harrison Wells.

Who instantly calms down when he spots the book in Barry's hand. "Oh thank _heavens,_ " he breathes. "Cisco was just saying that if I damaged that, I was the one paying the library fines, and I'm really not sure where I'd get the money."

"Do I wanna know how we screwed up a book today?" Barry asks, handing the novel back over, then pulling his cowl down.

He follows Harry back into the Cortex, any response the older man might make being drowned out by Cisco yelling, "No! No! Do _not_ ask him that! He _just_ finished a rant about that book and quite frankly I am _done_!"

Harry glances over his shoulder at Barry, expression disconcertingly sheepish as he suppresses a smile. "Well, I can forgive the fact that the Communists in this book are _Russian_ , given the differences in history between our worlds, but-"

"Nope! I'm out! See ya, Barry!" Cisco pushes away from the computer in front of him and stands, quickly pushing his way past them to leave the Cortex.

Barry and Harry watch him go. Harry looks vaguely triumphant, which makes Barry shake his head with a fond sigh. He rubs his forehead, glances over at Harry. "Okay, so, you can forgive the historical differences, _but_?"

"The order of events was wrong, the characters were all off - Ryan isn't _humble_ , not by any stretch of the imagination, and don't get me started on Ramius, who I presume is meant to be this Earth's answer to Ramirez, and how his superiors view him -"

"I'm sorry I asked," Barry quips with a false mournful tone.

Harry gives him a scathing look. "Don't interrupt; it's rude."

Barry holds up his hands defensively. "Sorry, sorry! Continue, please."

As it turns out? He really does end up being sorry he asked, because Harry subjects him to a half-hour long diatribe on the many ways the two novels differed, with pointed commentary on how the Earth-2 version was better. A lot of the finer points are lost on Barry, primarily because he's never read the book - or seen the movie - since military thrillers aren't exactly his thing. It also doesn't help that Harry keeps slipping back into the Earth-2 names when they differ, which are markedly different from the Earth-1 names. Apparently on Earth-2, the Cold War was between certain South American countries and the U.S.

And it didn't remain cold for very long, erupting into an all out war at the end of the 1970s. He thinks. He's trying to piece this together based on Harry's complaints about the book, because every time he tries to ask for clarification, Harry just talks louder in a pointed tone.

Barry thinks he's winding down, finally, when Harry spins on his heel and goes, "And another thing-!"

That elicits a quiet groan. Barry glances towards a computer, hoping to find some way to get him off the topic of that book, when he notices what time it is.

_Crap._

"Sorry Harry, gotta run, gonna be late for work!"

He barely remembers to change out of his suit and back into normal clothing before speeding out of the Labs. And he is _never again_ asking Harry about why he didn't like a book, _ev_ er.

* * *

Barry runs into S.T.A.R. Labs, and nearly runs into Cisco, Caitlin, and Jesse where they stand just outside the Cortex, peering cautiously around the edge of the doorframe and into the room. He almost greets them loudly, but thinks better of making noise, since clearly there is some reason the three of them are all but hiding out here in silence.

So he whispers, "Hey, what's up?"

Three heads turn to look at him in unison, but it's Jesse who replies, voice even quieter than a whisper, if that's at all possible. "Dad's reading."

Oh God. Barry winces, suddenly understanding perfectly well why they are all out here instead of in there. Despite the fact that Harry has yet to find a book that lives up to his memories of the same title on Earth-2, the man just won't give up and find something to read that he _hasn't_ technically read yet. He's also too stubborn to stop reading when the plot takes a turn for what he considers to be the worse. Which means that he's going to finish that book, and whichever one of them is the poor soul he sees first is going to be subject to whatever diatribe he has brewing about how sorry the state of literature on Earth-1 is.

He wonders if they're going to have to draw straws to see who ends up subjected to the inevitable ranting. Because as much as he is willing to face down meta-humans and criminals and forces of nature? Barry draws the line at listening to another one of Harry's rants. Except… well, he's the hero. So he sighs, and sidles around the other three. "I'll see what's so bad about this one."

" _Thank you,_ " Cisco breathes. "I still haven't recovered from what he said about _The Langoliers_."

Caitlin offers him a tentative thumbs up, which he is going to assume is a gesture meaning 'good luck', and not 'better you than me'.

"Oh, good," Jesse whispers, audibly relieved, "He _likes_ you."

Which gets knowing nods from Caitlin and Cisco, and leaves Barry thoroughly confused, because, as he points out, "Uh, you're his daughter. I'm pretty sure he likes you more."

Jesse gives him a look, one that clearly says she thinks he's either an idiot or being painfully obtuse.

"What?"

"…Just get in there, before I start wondering _why_ he likes you," Jesse sighs with all the dramatics of a teenager.

Barry takes a deep breath and calmly strides into the Cortex, making his way over to Harry and hoping he doesn't look too much like a man being sent before a firing squad. He leans casually over the desk to peek at the cover of the book and - oh _no._ It's _The Princess Bride_. He is not only suddenly incredibly grateful he's the one who came in here and not Cisco - because he's pretty sure any criticism Harry will have would be taken as a personal attack by his friend, and the last thing he needs is to hear it from _two_ people - but he also understands why Cisco was so relieved that he volunteered.

"Hey, Harry."

Harry glances up and - wait, is he _smiling_? Barry feels like he's somehow slipped into a parallel universe, which is weird, because he thinks he'd remember having entered a glowy hole in the fabric of reality and speeding towards another planet, but then, stranger things have happened to him. Maybe.

Well, whether he has or not, Harry still has a really nice smile.

"Ah, finally, someone else shows up. Have you seen the others? I thought I'd get some reading done while I waited," Harry holds up the novel as he speaks, "but I'm almost done and… well, you're the only other person here."

Barry suppresses a wince, because oh God is he bad at lying and why did he volunteer to come in here? He tries to hide it with a shrug, passing it off as a confused look. "Nooo idea. I'm sure they'll get here eventually?"

Harry's gaze is piercing, and Barry looks away, because he just _knows_ the man saw right through his attempt at covering for the other three.

"Mm, well, it's a shame, I wanted to thank Cisco."

That draws Barry up short. "Wait, what? Why?"

"He has finally managed to find a book that restores my faith in the quality of Earth-T- _One_ literature," Harry replies levelly. "In fact, I think this version is actually superior to the one from my original world."

Before Barry can reply, Cisco practically falls into the Cortex. "You're kidding me? You actually _liked_ it?!"

Barry shoots Cisco a despairing look, because come _on,_ he had _tried_ to hide the fact that they were all hiding around the corner, afraid of the prospect of Harry reading a novel. But the man in question just looks amused by Cisco's entrance as he slides a slip of paper against the page he was on, and shuts the book.

"I haven't finished it yet, so there's still time for my opinion to change, but yes, thus far it's much better. I'm glad Wesley lives in this version." Harry sets the book down, just in time for Caitlin and Jesse to give up on hiding.

"Dad, does the term 'spoiler' mean anything to you?" Jesse says.

He quirks an eyebrow. "It's a device intended to reduce lift in aeronautics by creating a controlled stall over the flight surfaces of an aircraft, why?"

That makes Jesse huff as she flops down into a chair. "Why do you always have to be difficult?"

"I think he considers it his job," Caitlin remarks. "You should've been here when he was my patient; I was about ready to strap him to the bed by the second day."

"Dad's never been good at following doctor's orders. Or anyone's. It's a wonder he survived the army."

"Still sitting here!" Harry interjects.

Barry can't help but laugh.

* * *

Harrison turns the page, aware that he's reading at a much slower pace than usual, but he's never been able to speed through this book the way he does most others. Not and still be able to keep track of the story. It's late, and he should get up and go to bed. More importantly, at least sit up and let his pillow go to bed, but finding a reading position that is comfortable for more than five minutes is an almost impossible task no matter what universe you're in. Having found that position, on a couch set up in one of the break rooms here at the Labs, with his knees bent over the armrest, book on his chest, and his head propped against Barry's leg? He's disinclined to move until he's finished this novel.

One of Barry's arms rests lightly on his forehead, which is a little annoying, but he can't begrudge him needing some support to hold up the tablet he's on. The quiet sounds of some game - one with peppy music and the occasional squeaky, supposedly cute voice - filter into his ears. Harrison mostly tunes it out. He'd make Barry put on some headphones or turn the sound off, but honestly, he kind of likes the reminders that he isn't alone.

It's probably another half hour before he finally closes the book and rests it on his stomach, underneath his clasped hands. Harrison sighs. The music stops, Barry's forearm moving off his forehead, and suddenly his view of the ceiling tiles is blocked by Barry's face at a rather disconcerting angle.

"Okay, so. I hesitate to ask but. How bad was it?"

"Hm?" Harrison has caught on, by now, that no one wants to be around him when he reads this world's versions of his favourite books, because ninety-nine times out of a hundred, he finds them to be utterly terrible. Actually, even ones that he's read that weren't his favourites back on Earth-2 have been the subjects of his rants against Earth-1 literature. That doesn't mean Barry's reticence doesn't surprise him a little. He hadn't thought he'd indicated that he found this particular book _bad._

"Just… get the rant out of your system now, please," Barry says with an anticipatory wince. "Last time I let you go to bed without ranting… Pretty sure Iris was gonna strangle me?"

Ah, yes, Iris had been the unfortunate person to suffer the brunt of his ire about this version of _Great Expectations_. His expectations had been great. The book… had not lived up to them in the least. "I'm not going to rant, Barry."

"You're not?" Barry's tone turns hopeful. "You mean… this version was better?"

Harrison laughs softly, runs his tongue over his lips. "No, no it wasn't. It was… essentially the same. I suppose I'm not surprised."

"Lemme guess, you had to run into a book that wasn't better or worse _eventually?_ "

"Yes, although I admit I wasn't expecting it to be _Catch-22_."

"Huh," Barry utters, leaning back so his face is no longer in Harrison's field of vision. "I guess that kind of makes sense, though?"

"Expand," Harrison demands, curious.

"Well, if it was better, then that means Earth-Two did a bad job at explaining what a catch-22 was. But, for you to be able to say it was better, then you'd have to understand what a catch-22 is, which means the Earth-Two version did do a good job with the premise."

He mulls that over for a few moments, before deciding that part of the logic is sound enough. After all, if the Earth-2 version had been bad enough that he hadn't understood the basic premise - that of a double-bind logic loop - then he would have never picked up the Earth-1 version of the book. (He has yet to read this Earth's version of _The Catcher in the Rye_ , and he never intends to.) "But this version could have been the worse version."

"Hm, yeah, you have a point," Barry agrees.

"Although it could be argued that if this version failed to adequately explain the titular catch - which is really the only way a book written in this style could have been worse -, then it likely would have never been published. Thus, the fact that it satisfactorily explores the premise means that it is a good version of this book. And since we've already explained why it can't be better…"

Barry makes an odd, choked laugh. "Oh geez."

"What?"

"I think we just made a catch-22 about _Catch-22_."

That earns another chuckle from Harrison. "It can't be better because I would have never read it if the version I originally read was that bad, but it can't be worse because to be worse it would have failed at telling the story and thus would not have been published in the first place?"

"Yup. Actually, we could make it even simpler. It can't be better because if the Earth-Two version was worse, it wouldn't have been published there. But it can't be worse because then it never would have been published here."

"I'm not sure it's a proper catch-22, though," Harrison muses.

"How so?"

"Well, you have two premises in a catch-22. To use the main example from the book… The first premise is that for a person to be excused from combat duty on the grounds of insanity, they have to both be insane and request an evaluation. The second premise is, of course, that an insane person doesn't realise they are insane, and thus wouldn't request an evaluation. The implication being, either you're crazy, or you request an evaluation. Thus, you can't be both insane _and_ request an evaluation. Conclusion: no one can be excused from flying because no one can be both insane and have requested an evaluation."

Barry shifts underneath him, and a hand lands on his chest, fingers drumming lightly against his sternum. "Right. So. First premise: for the book to be better on either earth, that means that the alternate version failed at explaining the main plot point. Second premise: If it fails at explaining the plot, it won't be published. Implication: Either version either adequately explains the plot, or fails to be published. Thus, it can't both explain the plot and fail to be published. Conclusion: neither version can be worse, because neither version both explained the plot and failed to be published."

Harrison considers that with a soft hum. "I think you're reaching there, but I'll let it go."

"Spoilsport."

"I prefer the term, 'person who wishes to go to bed sometime before," he pauses to check his watch, "two in the morning,' if I'm going to be honest."

"Is it really that late?" Barry clicks a button on the tablet, and whistles lowly. "Wow. Yeah, it is. Guess I should get home."

"Yes, you probably should." Harrison pushes himself upright with a soft grunt, then swings his legs around off the arm of the couch. "Good night, Barry."

He stills for a moment before standing up. Thinks. Then glances over at his companion. "And thank you for being an agreeable pillow."

Barry grins at him, luminescent and perhaps a touch stupidly. It's annoyingly endearing. "Any time."


End file.
